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by Ellitheria



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Angst, But I don't believe in Tom/Liz, Drama, F/M, How I Want it to Happen, Masha Rostova, Masha Rostova Pre-Tag, Most wanted, Not for a second, Pre-Relationship, Tom Keen is a good guy (le sigh), nope - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:29:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3909583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellitheria/pseuds/Ellitheria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment she became more important than his job was the moment he knew there was no going back. </p>
<p>She would always come first.</p>
<p>"If you're going to arrest me, you have to do it now."</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> I love the promo for next week, as well as THIS: "...Bokenkamp hints, noting that the show will aim to delve more into characters' personal lives in the upcoming third season - which could mean we'll finally get a definitive answer on Ressler's possible feelings for Liz." 
> 
> AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
> 
> Although, I'm going to be honest, this story is how I WANT it to go. It's too early for anything as awesome as a confession or even a kiss... we need to build up to that! Liz is still WAY too conflicted. We need to end this season on the right note - something like this - and build up to what we want (neeeeeeeed Keenler... neeeeeed) - in season 3.

"If you're gonna to arrest me, you've gotta do it now."

Donald Ressler swallows hard and knows that he's a goner. He always has been, really. Since the moment he let her become more important than his career.

He looks around, desperate to hold the inevitable words in, to lengthen their time together in this musty room even though he knows it's not possible, knows the FBi is closing in fast. The light in this place is dim, he notes, and the room is too hot. He's standing too close to her, his breath coming fast and his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

_He can't do it._

Putting her picture on that glass screen, knowing she was being hunted ( _being the one hunting her_  ) made him feel sick to his stomach. He hasn't stopped feeling sick in the past twelve hours, not when he was pouring over video cameras aimed at empty streets, trying to track down her car or Tom Keen's car - no one was sure which car they had taken, just that she was with him because he was her best hope of survival.

The sound of sirens snaps them both out of their thoughts. Liz tries to back away, looks frantically around, yells at him.

" _Donald_! Did you hear me!? I'm leaving the country. Tonight, with Tom. If you're going to stop me - "

He cuts her off, stepping impossibly closer, invading her space. His hand reaches up without his permission - and damn it, when did he touch her face? He didn't give his hand permission to do that. But she gasps in the best possible way and he can't bring himself to regret it - or the words he's about to say.

"Go," he whispers, his blue eyes searching hers. He finds fear, can see the adrenaline and exhaustion rushing through her as she trembles, aches to wipe away the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. "Run with Tom. He can keep you safe. I - "

He cuts off, his hand falling. She staggers back, not because she's running yet (because she's glued to the spot, she can't move) but because the loss of the warmth of his hand is shocking and the numbing fear thrumming through her body is making it difficult to hold still.

"Donald, are you sure?" Damn it, why is she trying to convince him to arrest her? _Stop, Liz_! she chastises herself. "You could get in trouble, suspended - "

"I don't care," Ressler cuts in, shoving his gun into its holster so his hands can find her face again. He gently cups her jaw, and her eyes flutter closed. Their words are too quiet in the large, dark hallway. They can hear the water dripping onto the concrete floor as red lights flash through the building to indicate that there's an emergency. "Liz, it's been a while since you've been more important to me than the job. Months. Since I first lied for you," he murmurs, and she won't cry, damn it, she won't, because she's the FBI's most wanted and she's a strong woman, and she won't cry because her partner is telling her to run because he cares more for her than serving their fucked up justice system. "Run, and don't look back. I  _WILL_  clear your name, Liz. I will. You will come back. You will come home."

It's both a promise to her and to himself. He will bring her home.

She nods, her eyes meeting his, unable to speak but not know what she'd say even if she could make her lips work. Finally, she whispers, "Thank you," and then she turns and runs away.

Every fiber of his being is telling him to  _run after her, stop her, don't let her leave_ but not because he wants to arrest her, but because he wants to hold her like he didn't allow himself to. He wants to hold her in his arms because he can't imagine doing this job without her, waking up in the morning knowing he won't see his partner, knowing she won't be there to keep his cranky ass in line. 

It hurts to think about, and as he exits the building to see the FBI surrounding it, guns drawn, hidden partly behind cars, he can't help the anger that courses through him. He kicks the front of the nearest car - hard - and winces in pain. He doesn't notice whose car it is until he straightens up and meets amused eyes.

"Ah, Donald."

He looks up and the anger melts out of him as he sees the face of Raymond Reddington.

"I assume you had no luck?"

FBI agents all around are listening to their conversation, yelling orders at each other, preparing to enter the building and search it top to bottom for someone who he knows is already gone.

"She's gone," he says carefully, because it's true, but it's not the whole truth. 

"Ah," Raymond says noncommittally. 

Donald Ressler shrugs. "She's innocent. This is bullshit."

Raymond nods, and Donald doesn't know what else to say so he doesn't.

"She'll be fine," Reddington finally offers, opening the door to his car, knowing that Donald won't want to ride back to the Post Office with his new partner. Knows that Donald hates his new partner, for the simple reason that  _it's not Liz_. "Tom will take care of her."

"I'm bringing her home," Ressler promises, and Reddington nods.

"Of that I have no doubt. For now, dear Donald, it's lunchtime. I know for a fact you haven't eaten since before interrogating Karakurt. I know this wonderful little Indian place downtown..."

Ressler drowns his voice out, climbs in, and finds himself surprised as he relaxes the smallest fraction.

There may be nothing they can do at this very moment, but...

She has powerful people on her side. He sees Dembe on the phone as he drives, and knows that Reddington is only just beginning to set things in motion that will make his head spin. Knows that people are being contacted, bribed, tracked down, all in the effort to clear Liz's name, to take down the Cabal.

Perhaps the most comforting part of what he understands as Reddington continues to tell him the virtues of the Indian restaurant they're headed to, is the knowledge that, this time, Reddington will include him. 

He  _will_ bring her home. 


End file.
